


Riptide

by QueenSabriel



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Raven Cycle Big Bang 2019, primarily about adam and ronan's family, pynch and bluesey children, set twentyish years after canon, though note the rest of the gangsey doesn't appear until the very end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: Over twenty years have passed since Glendower. Now in their forties, Adam and Ronan have worked hard to balance life as magic users with just plain living—both while giving their daughter and son the sort of childhood neither of them had. But the past, especially their past, is like a stone thrown into a lake; long after it’s gone there will still be ripples hitting the shore.





	Riptide

“ _For each age is a dream that is dying,_  

_Or one that is coming to birth._ ” 

- Arthur O’Shaughnessy,  _Ode_  

 

*** 

 

Summer that year was a delicate thing that strung itself across the tops of the mountains and forests, draping low into valleys, sizzling across telephone wires. The Blue Ridges faded one after another, swallowed by the haze until they turned the same pale gray-blue as the sky. Electricity crackled through the air as living things began to really emerge after what had been a heavy, wet, oppressive spring. 

Ronan Lynch stood on the front porch in jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare, mug of coffee in his hand. For the past few days, early in the mornings especially, he could have sworn he felt the ley line stir. He’d felt it even more today, enough that once Adam was off to work and the kids were settled with their breakfast and cartoons he’d come out here like he thought he might actually see something different in the landscape around the house.  

Of course, he didn’t. A feeble breeze shushed through the ornamental grass growing on either side of the stairs. Honey bees bopped around in the flower beds. A mourning dove cooed dolorously somewhere above Ronan’s head. When the breeze calmed Ronan could hear other sounds drifting from the far fields behind the house: cows lowing, the grinding of an engine, a snatch of music, the voices of the farmhands.  

In the just over two decades since they first woke the ley line, that summer they found Glendower, there had been plenty of what Adam mildly referred to as “incidents.” A week after Ronan’s thirty-first birthday, for instance, an earthquake down the line had been followed by the appearance of several strange and frightening creatures in the area around Henrietta, thankfully no one was hurt and Ronan and Adam had eventually found the source of the creatures, an inter-dimensional crack that had opened in the basement of an abandoned farmhouse. 

This prickling didn’t feel like that though. Nor did it feel like the month of hell that was now not-so-fondly remembered as the Henrietta Zombie Apocalypse. (Gansey still insisted that was a gross overstatement, but Ronan liked the ring of it.)  

Ronan was just about to turn around and go back inside when he heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. A moment later, around the bend came a pickup truck that had definitely seen better days; its red paint was chipped and flaking, rust had chewed the wheel wells, and its exhaust sounded like the stuttering hack of a smoker. Ronan didn’t recognize the vehicle, but as it came closer and pulled into the spot usually occupied by Adam’s sleek Lexis hybrid, Ronan did recognize the driver. 

The years had not been kind to Mrs. Parrish. Poor, rural Appalachia had a habit of turning out old women like her, heavily lined, perpetually tired, worn thin. She hugged her cardigan about her as she got out of the truck and made her way slowly up the front walk. Ronan watched her warily the whole time, though he did at least come down the steps to meet her. 

“Adam’s not here,” he said.  

And this too was immensely strange, her being here, like two worlds coming together that shouldn’t have, Adam’s childhood and this life they had now. 

Mrs. Parrish made an almost pained sound of frustration, and only when she looked up and past Ronan to the house did he see just how exhausted she looked. Then she finally met his gaze. “His daddy died last night.” 

It was all Ronan could do to keep from exclaiming “Jesus Christ” out loud. Instead he just raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.  

Robert Parrish was dead. 

Robert Parrish was...dead. Truth be told, he’d always assumed the old bastard was too stubborn to die. Ronan didn’t say that out loud, of course, but Mrs. Parrish must have read it in his face because she sucked her teeth again, this time in annoyance.  

“He was your father-in-law, you know,” she said bitterly. 

Now Ronan scoffed. “Oh  _please_. I know just what he thought of me and it sure as hell wasn’t that we were any kind of family.” 

“You haven’t changed a damn bit have you,” she said, her eyes hardening. “I would have thought...” But she didn’t finish, instead trailing off, her gaze fixed on something behind Ronan. 

He turned a little. Just inside the screen door Aisling stood watching them, all awkward, lanky teenage proportions, her long mousy hair loose, her expression intent. 

Ronan looked back to Mrs. Parrish. There was something strange in her expression now. He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell Adam you stopped by.” 

“Tell him I’d like to see him tomorrow, if he can manage,” she said. All emotion was gone from her voice now in a way that reminded Ronan unnervingly of how Adam spoke when he had been caught being upset about something. 

“Yeah,” Ronan said. 

Mrs. Parrish turned and walked back to her car. Not until the truck had done a y-turn and begun its retreat back down the drive did the screen door open and close, and a second later Aisling was pressing against Ronan’s side. At seventeen she was almost as tall as he was, but when she leaned against him like this she seemed so much smaller again. 

“Hey, squirt,” Ronan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving a little squeeze. 

“What was she doing here?” Aisling asked. 

“I’ll tell you later when Dad gets home, okay?” Ronan said, looking at her. A lot of people thought she looked like Adam, which was only a coincidence of course, but the resemblance was most obvious to Ronan in moments like this because Aisling’s pensive face was a lot like his husband’s. He gave her a reassuring little jostle. “Don’t worry about it. Is Noah still eating breakfast?” 

Aisling nodded. “Uhuh. Chainsaw and Opal are with him.”  

“Oh, well, if  _they’re_  watching him then we can just peace out for a few hours,” Ronan said. “They’re both highly-trained, certified—” 

“Dad, oh my god,” Aisling said, laughing and elbowing him in the ribs. She settled down, wrapping her arms around herself but grinning a little still. “Can I go into town later? Just to hang out with Lilah.” 

“If you finish your chores then yeah sure,” Ronan said, giving her a little nudge towards the door. “Let's go make sure Opal hasn’t convinced your brother to try eating his plate okay...” 

*** 

Adam was a little late getting home that night, having first been cornered by his department chair as he was leaving and then stuck in the rush hour traffic coming out of Charlottesville. Still, the sky was a pale and luminous twilight blue as he pulled up in front of the farmhouse, and all the windows glowed invitingly in the dusk. He was a little apprehensive too, since Ronan had sent him a rather cryptic text about there being something he needed to tell him. Whatever it was had to be serious to warrant a text, but not serious enough to warrant a phone call. 

He knew the minute he stepped through the door that the house was empty, but looking down the hall he could see that the back door was open, and from the porch he could hear the sound of voices. Leaving his briefcase on the hall table he walked the length of the house and let himself out onto the back porch. 

Almost immediately Noah bounded to his feet and bounced over to throw his arms around Adam’s legs. He looked up, grinning, perfect little dimples forming in his round cheeks. “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Hey bud,” Adam said, laughing and reaching down to ruffle his hair.  

Noah gave his legs another squeeze, then just as quickly as he’d appeared he was toddling back over to where Chainsaw was sneaking up on the corn cob Noah had been shucking. Noah shooed her away with a playful wave of his arms.  

As Adam went down the steps and over to where Ronan was standing by the grill, he looked around but didn’t see Aisling.  

“She went into town,” Ronan said, pausing to lean in and give Adam a light peck on the lips when he got close enough. “Should be back soon though.” 

Adam nodded. He studied Ronan’s face for a half second before asking, “So what’s going on, Ro? What happened?” 

“Your mom came by earlier,” Ronan said. 

Crickets were chittering in the fading twilight. Back on the porch, Noah was talking quietly to Chainsaw, delivering one of his meandering little-kid-let's-pretend narratives. Adam folded his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders a little. “He’s dead. My father.” 

“Yeah, last night,” Ronan said, and he started to reach for Adam’s arm but Adam found himself jerking away and holding up his hands. 

“Don’t,” he said, taking a step back. “Please, I just—” Pursing his lips, he pressed a fist to his breastbone like he could physically slow his breath and pulse. “I just need a second.” 

Ronan watched him, his frown hovering between worried and angry. He stuck his hands in his jeans, shifting his weight from side to side uneasily. A couple strands of his ever-unruly black hair had fallen across his face but he didn’t bother to move them. 

Declan was always saying that the older Ronan got the more he looked like their father. Adam had seen enough photographs of Niall Lynch to agree, for the most part, because while Niall Lynch had the sort of classical roguish good looks, was handsome in a Gregory Peck sort of way, Ronan was wilder, fiercer. Especially now, standing the way he was with the background of the forest and the mountains and the fading evening sky. 

“Well?” Ronan said, after the silence had gone on for a while. 

Adam sighed. “Well what?” 

“You know what,” Ronan said. One of his eyebrows lifted just a little. “You can’t tell me you’re feeling bad about him.” 

“Excuse me?” Adam said, looking at him. 

Ronan must have realized how that sounded because he lifted his hands in a half-surrender. “Babe, listen I’m not trying to tell you how to feel I just—” 

“This definitely isn’t the time for you to try and dissect my feelings about my father and also definitely not the time to whip out the pet names, Ronan,” Adam said, and he knew, he  _knew_  he could feel the anger starting to bubble up inside him, toxic, caustic, and he didn’t want it to because fighting with his husband, his best friend,  with  _Ronan_ , was not going to make him feel any better. But he couldn’t stop. Thanks, Dad. Thanks for that.  

Turning away, jaw clenched, Adam looked towards the porch. Aisling was there now, he hadn’t even heard her come out, and both she and Noah stood on the steps watching them. Noah had Chainsaw cradled in his arms, and his eyes were wide. Aisling’s face was pinched, eyebrows drawn up in a worried, about-to-be-sad expression. 

Adam’s shoulders relaxed. He turned and as he did he reached for Ronan, who immediately pulled him closer. “I’m sorry,” Ronan said lowly. “That was a shit thing to say.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re a shit sometimes, Lynch,” Adam said, but it was all affection in his words as he kept one hand on Ronan’s arm. “I don’t know how I feel. I just need some time to process this, okay?” 

Ronan nodded, then kissed him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Adam murmured. “Let’s have dinner." 

*** 

That night Ronan had trouble sleeping. This wasn’t a new problem; there was a bottle of sleeping pills with his name on it in the medicine cabinet of the little bathroom just off the master bedroom, but the bottle was as full as the day he’d picked it up from the pharmacy. Sleeping was dangerous enough without throwing Ambien into the mix. He wasn’t even sure why he’d bothered getting the prescription filled.  

The insomnia that had plagued him in his teenage years was back in full force tonight, and as the bedside clock ticked later and later Ronan lay there in the darkness staring up at the vague blob of the ceiling light and listening to Adam’s slow, steady breathing beside him. Outside, somewhere far in the distance, an owl hooted. 

Finally, Ronan got out of bed and made his way quietly downstairs. It was cooler down on the first floor and in just his pajama bottoms he shivered, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck and arms. At the bottom of the stairs he turned and paused for a moment when he saw coming from the kitchen the faint aquarium-glow of the light above the sink. Frowning, he padded down the hall. 

In the kitchen he found Aisling standing by the sink in basketball shorts and a Harvard t-shirt that was a little too big on her. She was leaning on the edge of the counter, staring intently out the nearly black window above the sink. 

“Hey, Ash, everything ok?” Ronan’s voice was muzzy from lack of sleep. 

Aisling jumped, spinning around and clutching her chest. “Jesus, Dad!” she gasped. “You scared the shit outta me.” 

“What’d you see out there?” Ronan asked, walking over to her. 

“Nothing,” Aisling said, but she was breathing heavily and her brow was still furrowed, so Ronan didn’t believe her for a minute. 

It was difficult to see out into the blackness with the light above the sink on, but Ronan leaned forward over the sink until his face was almost pressed against the glass. The orange security light on the garden shed illuminated part of the side yard next to the house, but all he could see was the flat grass and the dark silhouettes of trees. Nothing moved. 

“It was nothing,” Aisling said again, reaching for the water glass sitting on the counter. “It was probably just some animal. Or Opal.” 

Ronan nodded, watching her for a moment. He’d entirely forgotten why he’d come downstairs in the first place. Aisling stepped back, holding the glass in both hands. She suddenly looked very small, and very young, and the corners of her mouth were downturned, making her frown a sad one. 

“Hey, kiddo, what’s the matter?” Ronan asked. 

“Nothing,” Aisling said for the third time in the past two minutes. She sighed. “Just tired. Dad? Will you come tuck me in?” 

“Sure,” Ronan said, but he cast her a curious look. She hadn’t asked to be tucked in since she was probably about eight years old. Still, he reached out and gave her a gentle nudge towards the hall. “C’mon. You’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.” 

Aisling bobbed her head, but didn’t say anything as Ronan shut off the kitchen light and the two of them headed back upstairs. 

The room that now belonged to Aisling had been Ronan’s once. He’d grown up in there, had dreamed so many dreams, had kissed Adam for the first time. Now that it was his daughter’s room, though, it honestly didn’t feel that much different than when he’d inhabited it; the furniture was laid out in much the same way, there was the same familiar, lived-in-clutter, there were even some of the exact same books on the shelves in the corner. He couldn’t even get too mad at her about the mess on the floor because anything that made people compare Aisling to him made him smile, just a little. 

On the nightstand a lamp made to look like a fancy, purple crystal chandelier glowed sleepily. Aisling picked her way over to the bed, set her glass down and slipped back under the covers, then looked at Ronan expectantly. He gave her a bemused but affectionate smile and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Aisling looked like she wanted to say something. She opened her mouth, but closed it again, and then reached out to trace her fingertip along one of the tattooed vines that twined around Ronan’s right arm. Then, in barely more than a whisper she asked, “Dad? Did you...did you dream me?” 

“What?” Ronan said. Whatever he’d been expecting her to ask him, it certainly wasn’t that. “No, of course not. Dad and I adopted you, you know that. Why would you think that?” 

“Are you lying?” she asked, meeting his gaze, her own expression intent. 

Ronan reached out and put two fingers under her chin. “Aisling Aurora Lynch,” he said lowly. “I would never lie to you. Especially about something like this.” 

“You’ve never told Uncle Matt,” Aisling pointed out, which was true. In fact, it was a complete accident that she herself had learned that particular secret.  

“Uncle Matt’s never asked.”  

Aisling narrowed her eyes. “So if he asked you, you’re saying you’d tell him?”  

“I guess, I don’t know, it hasn’t been a problem yet. I seriously doubt it’ll ever come up.” Ronan raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously, what brought this up all of the sudden?”  

But Aisling shook her head, pulling the blanket up and settling back with a sigh. 

“Okay,” Ronan said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Your dad and I love you, you know? And you’re our daughter. You’ll always be our daughter, nothing else matters. What did I tell you about anyone who says otherwise?” 

Now Aisling let out a drowsy laugh. “Fuck them.” 

“Yeah, fuck them,” Ronan said, grinning a little. He patted her hand. “Now go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

"G’night, dad,” Aisling said as he stood up. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Ronan said, turning the beside lamp off before heading back to the door, doing his best not to step on anything along the way.  

He still felt uneasy as he pulled her door closed behind him and so for a few seconds he just stood in the darkened hallway, frowning to himself. Then he shook his head and continued back to his own room. 

As he got into bed once more, Adam rolled over and asked in a drowsy, still mostly asleep murmur, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, Ash couldn’t sleep,” Ronan said. He glanced over and could see in the fuzzy darkness that Adam had opened his eyes. “She’s okay though.” 

Adam nodded, already drifting off again, but as Ronan lay down he reached for him, pulling him closer. Ronan shifted, settling in, and with the familiar weight of Adam’s arm around him, one hand resting on his chest, he finally fell asleep. 

* 

It had been a long time since Adam was last at his parents’ home. At some point in the intervening years between his childhood and now the Parrishes had moved from the old blue double-wide trailer home to a ramshackle little house a few streets over. In Adam’s opinion the house wasn’t much of an upgrade, but he knew it must have meant something to his father.  

His father.  

The knowledge that his father was dead, that he now lived in a Robert Parrish-less world, stuck to the inside of Adam’s ribs like tar the whole drive from the Barns into Henrietta. And when Ronan dropped him off in front of the house, the thick, sticky feeling was starting to make it hard to breathe.  

_He’s not there_ , Adam told himself as he climbed the three steps leading to the front porch.  _He’s not going to be the one to answer_.  

Before he could even reach for the bell, the door opened. 

“Hey, Mom,” Adam said. 

His mother wore faded jeans and an oversized sweater. For a moment she just stood in the doorway looking at him. A few wisps of grey hair had escaped their braid and moved in the breeze. “C’mon inside,” she said, stepping aside.  

Adam stepped through the door and into a cluttered living room. It was the smell that hit him first, overwhelmingly like... no, not like home. Like a place for leaving. Like the place he had thought was home for the longest time until he had met Ronan.  

The same furniture that had been in the trailer now occupied this space. There was the worn couch, the battered coffee table, the La-Z-Boy recliner that his father had spent so many evenings in. Adam stared at it and felt his chest tighten a little more. 

He forced himself to walk over and sit at the end of the couch farthest from the chair. His mother sat down at the other end. Adam shifted around, resting his hands on his knees, sitting up straight despite the worn cushion’s best attempts to suck him down into a slouch. Finally he asked, “How’re you doing?” 

“Fine,” his mother said. “The Joneses from across the way stopped by with some food last night. They’ve been checkin’ in.” 

Adam nodded. “That’s good.” Another awkward silence. He ran his thumb back and forth against his wedding ring, then twisted it around his finger. “D’you, ah, need anything?  Help making arrangements? Money for the...funeral?" It wasn't what he wanted to offer, but he didn't know what else to say. 

His mother's lips pursed even further. "I want you to act like a son for once." 

"I'm here," Adam said, voice coming out stiff as he worked hard not to raise his voice. "You asked me to come and I came. I don't know what else you want from me." 

"Your father just died," she said, shoulders heaving with her next breath. "I know your...husband," she seemed to have a great deal of difficulty saying the word, "—doesn't give two shakes but it would be nice to see some kind of human reaction from you. He was your father, whether you accepted that or not." 

Adam blinked slowly at her. Twenty years unfurled in the space between them. Hours upon hours in therapists’ offices. A Harvard law degree that he nearly killed himself to get. Twenty years of carefully carving out the real  _Adam_  from the tangled mess of his childhood and teenage years. But he’d done it. He had gone and he had come back and now he was more himself than he’d been before he left. 

Twenty years and he now had a real family. 

He also had a driver’s license that said ‘Adam Lynch’ on it and he wondered if that was why his mother felt she didn’t know him anymore, even though she’d never known him in the first place. For just a moment he felt angry because here she was asking him to be a son when she’d never been much of a mother to him, but he forced those feelings down. 

He forced them down because he knew what she was really asking for. 

"He abused me my whole childhood," Adam said in the same tone of voice he used when explaining a case to his first-year law students. "And I know that he did the same to you. And that you're upset about it now but whenever you feel like crying you think about all the times he hit you and then you hate yourself because you think its weak to be sad over someone who did that to you. There's nothing wrong with you, and if it helps, I do feel the same way."  

For just a second his mother looked sad, instead of angry. Then like a book snapping shut the frown returned. "You don't know nothing, Adam," she said. "You up and left your family to run around and do as you pleased. You don't know nothing about what I'm feeling." 

"Okay," Adam said.  

She huffed, then cleared her throat. "We're burying him on Sunday. A few of the family's coming in. I would like you to be there, if you think you can manage." 

"I'll come," Adam said, even as his stomach twisted itself into an even tighter knot. 

*** 

After dropping Adam off, Ronan and the children went to 300 Fox Way, since Adam had insisted repeatedly that no, he didn’t need them with, yes he really thought it was best to do this by himself.  

They let themselves through the ever-unlocked front door into the hustle and bustle of the psychic’s home. Glancing into the living room, Ronan saw that the furniture had been pushed back and the floor haphazardly covered in sheets of newspaper, on which sat Orla with a handful of assorted children, doing some project that involved glue and plastic gemstones and jars and an obscene amount of glitter. 

“You know this room is never going to be clean again, right?” Ronan said, pausing in the doorway. 

“Bold of you to assume it was ever clean to begin with,” replied Orla, looking up with a sweet smile. “Ash, Noah, come join us, we’re making galaxy jars.” 

Noah hurried over without hesitation, but Aisling waited until Ronan gave her a pointed ‘go help your brother’ look before she too wandered over in the very put-on-casual sort of way that meant she was probably trying to look cool for Orla, who just grinned and made room for her. 

“Hey,” Ronan said, catching Orla’s attention again. “Maura around?” 

Orla waved a hand in the general direction of the kitchen, at least half-a-dozen silver and turquoise rings glinting on her fingers. 

Edging around a cousin or aunt or friend carrying a bowl of water down the hall, Ronan made his way to the kitchen where he did indeed find Maura, standing by the counter where a row of bundled herbs lay. 

“Ronan,” she said glancing at him with a light smile. “I was wondering if we’d see you today. We heard about Robert Parrish.” 

“Did you hear about him yesterday?” Ronan asked, poking at a suspicion that had been growing in the back of his mind all morning. “Or did you find out on St. Mark’s Eve?” 

Maura rinsed herb bits off her hands, then dried her fingers on a dish cloth, turning to look at him as she did. Her long, mostly gray hair hung in a braid over one shoulder, the lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled as she regarded Ronan thoughtfully. “We told Adam that we saw his spirit on the corpse road, yes. It was Adam’s decision whether to tell you or not.” 

“That’s not why I’m—” But Ronan stopped himself, grimacing a little in frustration. “Okay, yeah I’m a little hurt he didn’t tell me but...that’s stupid. I shouldn’t be making this about me.” 

Now Maura smiled, and she walked over to him, patting his cheek with one hand. “Ronan Lynch I will never cease to be amazed by how much you’ve grown up.” 

“I am literally  _in my forties_ , Maura,” Ronan scoffed. 

“Trust me that is not necessarily an indicator of being grown up,” Maura said, turning to open the fridge and take out a pitcher of iced tea.  

Ronan made a face at her. “Do you still talk to Blue like this?” 

“Absolutely,” Maura said. “Tea? Oh don’t look at me like that, it’s just regular black tea, I promise.”  

“Sure,” Ronan said with a laugh, but he did still took a suspicious sniff of the tea when she handed it to him. 

The two of them sat at the cluttered kitchen table and for a moment Ronan was silent, watching a droplet of condensation run down the side of the glass. 

“So how is Adam?” Maura asked. 

“He’s Adam,” Ronan said with a shrug. “And this is his dad.” He fell silent again, and Maura waited patiently for him to continue. “He was so fucking scared when we adopted Aisling, you know? Like I know he only agreed because he knew how much I wanted it, and obviously he loves Ash and Noah more than anything but he was just... he never said anything but I knew he was terrified.” 

Maura nodded. “Scared that he would turn into his father.” 

“Yeah.” Ronan sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “But obviously he hasn’t. He’s an amazing dad.” 

“Being a parent means being afraid most of the time,” Maura said. She gave him a rueful smile. “Even having psychic abilities doesn’t make that any less true.”  

Ronan let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “You can say that again.” 

“Speaking of,” Maura said. “I talked to Blue this morning. They’re going to be back here as soon as they finish up at the dig. She said Gansey might be back before her and Henry though, and that he’d bring Rhian if he did.” 

“Cool,” Ronan said, nodding. “Aisling was just saying the other day how much she misses Rhian.” 

Maura gave him a calculating look. “Ah, you _are_  worried about Aisling.” 

“Jesus,” Ronan said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t miss a damn thing do you?” 

“It’s literally my job not to,” Maura said. “Now what’s going on?” 

Ronan looked at the scrubbed surface of the table for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. He shrugged. “I’m not sure, honestly, and that’s half the problem. It’s just this gut feeling that something’s not quite right.” 

“She is at that difficult age,” Maura said, tapping one finger thoughtfully against her glass. “Just tell her to stay away from street racing and dead Welsh kings.” 

Ronan’s smile was wide and boyish. “She’s got me for a dad and Gansey for an uncle, tell me how well you see that one working out.” 

Maura laughed. “Fair enough.” 

“Nah, seriously though it’s just...” Ronan’s brow furrowed again. “The ley line’s been...I don’t know, shivering, and she’s been asking strange questions and disappearing a lot.”  He shook his head and sighed. “Speaking of the ley line, have you all noticed it being weird too?” 

“We have." 

“And?” Ronan prompted. 

Maura shook her head. “And what? I don’t know what it is. It might not be anything.” Then, seeing his continued frown she leaned over to pat his cheek. “We’ll keep our eyes out, you know we always do.” 

Ronan ducked away from the hand, but the gesture was without any of the annoyance he might have shown ten or fifteen years ago at such a maternal display. He liked Maura, now that he was older and wise enough to appreciate the fact that she was, in fact, the sort of person he needed in his life. 

And then, in another show of her uncanny ability to know just what to say, Maura murmured, “You and Adam are both wonderful fathers, Ronan. I will never cease to be amazed by how you two had such horrible things happen to you as children and from that have created such a loving home for Ash and Noah. You’ll figure out what’s going on with Aisling. Speaking as someone who had to deal with you all when you were troubled teenagers, you’ll figure out what you need to do to help her. I know you will.” 

*** 

When the family got back to the Barns after lunch and Aisling found herself immediately banished out to the yard to do chores, she knew it was more to do with her fathers needing time to talk in private than with her, personally, but she couldn’t help but feel a little miffed. Still, she knew better than to argue and went out to work in their little personal kitchen garden without much complaint, while Noah went off with one of the farm hands to check on some of the animals. 

After working for a whole half hour Aisling was feeling overheated, and bored, and more than a little frustrated. She pulled off her gloves, abandoned the little trowel she’d been working with, and started across the yard towards the barn nearest the house. A gravel path ran from the large, double doors around past the house to the driveway, and the doors were locked with an impressive looking system that Aisling felt fairly certain had been the product of a dream. 

The side door, however, was unlocked like it usually was, Aisling just had to remember to punch the disarm code into the alarm panel inside. Once she’d done that, she closed the door behind her and flicked on the lights. 

This barn was where her fathers worked on their cars in what precious little free time they had. Inside, it was as large, silent, and sacred as a cathedral. Nearest the big main doors stood a Mitsubishi which was in the middle of some customizations, though even now it looked both impossibly fast and like it might transform into a robot at any minute. Other shapes huddled ominously in the gloom until Aisling flipped the switch next to the door, bathing the whole long space in fluorescent light and revealing the shapes to be boxes of parts, other cars under tarps, a massive red Craftsman tool chest that was at least twice Aisling’s size.  

She was not, strictly speaking, supposed to be messing around in here by herself, but she wasn’t planning on  _messing around_ , she had a very specific goal in mind. 

Heading to the very back of the barn, Aisling stopped in front of one vague tarp-covered-car-shape in particular. The area around this car was clear of clutter, making it look both lonely and worshipped. Leaning forward, Aisling grabbed the tarp with both hands and pulled it off with a soft  _whoosh_. 

A bright orange 1973 Camaro looked back at her. 

Aisling smiled. She loved the Pig wholly and unironically. It was one of the most ridiculous cars she’d ever laid her eyes on, and being the daughter of Adam and Ronan Lynch, she’d laid her eyes on plenty of ridiculous cars. But the Pig was a thing of legend for her and Noah and their cousin Rhian—the marvelous chariot that had brought their parents on so many strange and wonderful adventures. 

She opened the door and got into the driver’s seat, still smiling to herself as she rested her hands on the wheel and tried to picture her uncle Gansey at her age sitting here, with one of her dads in the passenger seat, and all the others in the back. It was always a little funny picturing them like that, but not in a bad way. 

Pulling the door closed, Aisling let her hands fall into her lap.  

She needed more than a break from her yard work. She needed answers, but there was no telling if she’d get them. 

Aisling closed her eyes, breathing out slowly and letting her head tip back against the headrest. 

*** 

Even with the kids out of the house, Adam and Ronan instinctively headed up to their bedroom to talk. Adam was clearly lost in thought, not looking at Ronan until he was finally sitting on the end of the bed, Ronan facing him, leaning back against the dresser. 

“I’m gonna go to the funeral,” Adam said.  

The statement stunned Ronan so that for a split second he couldn’t find his voice. “Jesus,” he said. “ _Why_?” 

“Closure.” Adam’s expression remained cool and passive. “I think if I don’t see them put him in the ground, I’ll never really believe he’s gone. And my mom wants me there.” 

“You really think you owe her that?”  

“That’s not what this is about,” Adam said, a bit sharply. “It’s not about owing her anything.” 

Ronan let out a breath, realizing he might have, once again, crossed a line. He pushed himself away from the dresser and sat down heavily next to Adam, and when Adam didn’t seem bothered by this, he rested a hand on his back. “Okay, sorry, I promise I’m not judging. And I’m not gonna tell you that you can’t go or any shit like that. I just...want you to be okay.” 

“Ronan,” Adam said. “You’ve done more than anyone else in the world to make sure I’m OK. Just because something might hurt doesn’t mean I don’t gotta do it.” 

“Listen to you getting all philosophical,” Ronan said, moving his hand in slow, steady circles between Adam’s shoulder blades.  

Adam leaned against him. “It’ll be okay. There’s not really anything anyone from my dad’s family that can say or do that’ll hurt me, not anymore. This,” he made a vague gesture to indicate the house, the farm, the kids outside, “this is important. I’m not afraid of them, Ro. My dad’s gone, and there’s nothing any of his family can do to take  _this_  away from me.” 

“Fuck right there isn’t,” Ronan murmured. He got to his feet. “I’m gonna go check on Ash.” 

“I’m gonna...” Adam trailed off, then sighed out a mouthful of air. “Clean the bathroom or something to get my mind off things.” 

Halfway to the door Ronan turned to give him a look of disbelief followed by a whatever-floats-your-boat kind of shrug before heading out into the hall, down the stairs, and outside. 

When he went around to the kitchen garden, however, he did not find his daughter there. All he found were her tools and gloves sitting by the fence. More annoyed than worried, Ronan put a hand on his hip and looked around. Finally he let out a sigh and started across the yard. There were an infinite number of places for a teenage girl to hide on a property as big as the Barns was, but Ronan knew Aisling and he knew where he would most likely find her. 

Sure enough, when he reached the barn that he and Adam had converted into a mechanics workshop he found the side door open and the lights on inside. Ronan cursed softly; it wasn’t that he had a problem with her being interested in the cars he and Adam puttered around with, far from it. It was just that he didn’t think she had quite enough experience not to hurt herself just yet. 

Unbidden, a memory surfaced of trying to assemble a ramp to drive the BMW over in the parking lot of Monmouth Manufacturing. God, he’d been an idiot when he was Aisling’s age. 

Ronan looked around, still scowling. “Aisling?” he called. No response. Ronan took another step in. The bright orange of the Camaro caught the corner of his eye and he looked down to where the Pig sat gleaming proudly in the harsh shine of the overhead lights.  

Since Gansey, Blue, and Henry were out of the country so much and there really wasn’t any space at 300 Fox Way, the Pig had been living here at the Barns for the past twenty years. Sometimes when they were back in town for long periods of time Gansey would take the old girl out, and other times Ronan would take it for a drive just for old times’ sake. It still drove. It still broke down. It still smelled like gasoline. He had dreamed this version of the Pig so long ago, and it would probably continue to be the same Pig until— 

“Ash?” Ronan said again. He had started towards the car. Aisling was in the driver’s seat, leaning back, eyes closed, hands in her lap. 

A strange feeling started to prick at the back of Ronan’s neck, spreading like an electric shock through the rest of his body so that he actually froze for a moment. He could tell she was asleep, that wasn’t the problem. Or rather, that  _was_  the problem: he found himself focusing on her hands, cupped almost like she was holding something. 

No, he told himself. You’re being an idiot. She’s just sleeping.  

Stepping quickly forward Ronan yanked the door open. “Aisling,” he snapped. 

Her breath hitched in wakefulness, but two full heartbeats passed before she opened her eyes. 

Then she jumped. “Dad! Oh, shit, sorry I...” 

Ronan’s gaze was still fixed on her hands, and without thinking he reached down and pulled one away from her lap. 

Her hands were empty. Of course they were. What was he thinking? 

“ _Dad_ ,” Aisling said, annoyed now, yanking her wrist out of his hand. “What the hell.” 

Ronan let out a long breath. “Sorry, I just—sorry. I don’t know. What are you doing? You’re supposed to be finishing up in the garden not messing around in here.” 

“I just needed a break for a sec,” Aisling said, getting out of the car and edging around him. She stuck her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie, hunching her shoulders a little. 

Closing the door to the Pig, Ronan gave her a sideways look. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Aisling said, but her tone was as fleeting as the thin clouds scudding across the sky outside, and so Ronan didn’t believe her for a second. Then, just as quietly, she asked, “How old was Grandpa when he died? Er, when he was killed?” 

Ronan’s breath caught in his throat. “He would’ve been, um...” he had to think a minute. “Forty-one.” 

“And how old are you?” 

“Forty-one.” Ronan leaned forward, taking Aisling’s chin in his hand. "Hey. You don’t need to worry about that, Ash. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” 

She nodded, but still gazed at him for a long moment before finally getting up. 

*** 

On Sunday morning Adam came downstairs to find Aisling sitting at the kitchen table in a black dress that she had last worn to a fancy dinner Declan had invited them all to. He himself was in a black suit, though he had the jacket slung over one arm. 

Aisling looked up at him. “Noah went to church with Dad.” 

“M’kay...” Adam said slowly, eyeing his daughter. “And why are you all dressed up if you didn’t go with them?” Neither child was required to go to church, and Aisling hadn’t been regularly in a while, but Noah went most weeks whether because it meant having Ronan to himself for part of the day or that he got to see his uncle Matthew or some other unknown reason. 

“Because I’m going with you,” Aisling said, matter-of-factly. She set her phone down and folded her hands on the table, looking up at Adam in a way that challenged him to tell her no. 

Adam let out a long sigh that was far too heavy for nine in the morning. He walked over to the counter and was relieved to see that Ronan had left a pot of coffee for him. He poured himself a cup then turned to look at Aisling.  

“You didn’t ask Dad to go with,” she said, a bit accusatorily.  

“No, I didn’t,” Adam said. “Because I knew he wouldn’t say no.” 

Aisling gave him a baffled look. 

“Ash,” Adam said. “I never got along with my father’s family even before I started dating your dad. My father went to jail and got a criminal record because of me.” 

“He got it because of himself,” Aisling said, with a venom she had to have learned from Ronan.  

Adam found himself smiling, just a little, and sadly. “I know, what I meant was that’s how his brother and other relatives probably see it. As my fault. And I don’t think your dad would be able to behave himself if they started giving me a hard time.” 

“You think they’d do that at a funeral?” 

“Unfortunately, I do,” Adam said, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s not going to be a good time, Ash. I don’t know what they’re going to be like.” 

“But you’re going anyway,” she said. 

He nodded.  

“Then I’m coming,” Aisling said. “That’s even more reason, Dad, you need someone on your side.” 

Adam gazed at her silently for a moment, then he set his cup down and walked over to pull Aisling into his arms. 

“Dad,” she protested, but she didn’t push him away. “Does this mean I can come?” she asked when he stepped back. 

“You have to be on your best behavior, all right?” Adam said. “I don’t know how people are gonna react to us being there, just remember none of them are worth starting fights with.” 

“You think I’m the kinda person to go starting fights?” Aisling asked, grinning a little. 

Adam let out a single, closed-lips laugh that sounded more like a hum than a sound of amusement. “You’re very much your father’s daughter.” 

“Excuse me,” she said. “I have _two_  dads and I’m both of them’s daugh—both of their’s... daughter? Both of—whatever, you get my point. I’m like both of you. And I know that if Dad had to do something like this you’d go with him, so I’m going with you.” 

“Okay,” Adam said softly, because there was nothing else he could say. 

*** 

The non-denominational cemetery in Henrietta was a small, poorly tended sprawl of land out at the edge of town, dotted with the obligatory weeping willow trees and only a tiny handful of markers that were fancier than the usual small tombstones that most people could afford.  

As her father pulled the car into the wide packed dirt drive that wound through the cemetery and moved to park it off to the side with the few other cars and trucks that were there, Aisling felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Adam’s family was a mystery to her, for the most part. She’d met her grandparents on that side only a few times and always by accident, usually in town, and each time she could tell her fathers were doing their best to shield her and Noah from the past. 

But now she put on a brave face as she and her father got out of the car. She immediately circled around and linked her arm through his, standing on the side of his good ear, looking up and trying to parse the odd, mostly blank expression he wore. 

He looked back at her and smiled, tightly, patting her arm. “We won’t have to stay long, I promise.” 

From the drive they walked up a little grassy rise, sticking to the aisles between graves. Aisling glanced at the stones curiously as they went, surprised by how many of the family names were familiar to her from other inhabitants of the area. She hadn’t been to this cemetery often, since Niall and Aurora Lynch were buried in the even smaller cemetery behind St. Agnes’.  

They found the Parrishes all the way back near the far fence. It was a slightly surreal scene, Aisling thought as they approached, especially outside in the clear, otherwise cheerful summer morning sun. There was the casket, closed, with a modest flower arrangement on top, and standing by it was an officiant. Mrs. Parrish stood beside him with another older woman Aisling didn’t know but looked like she might be an aunt or something. There weren’t many people there, maybe twenty at the most, and they were all standing facing the grave and the casket, so no one really saw Aisling and Adam join the group. Mrs. Parrish did though, and Aisling saw her meet her father’s gaze and give a small nod of recognition. 

The ceremony, if it could be called that, was not very long. The officiant said a few things, Mrs. Parrish said a few things, and so did Robert Parrish’s younger brother, a great-uncle that Aisling hadn’t known until now even existed. Even from a distance, however, he made her deeply uneasy, especially as he was finishing and his gaze finally landed on Adam, expression souring. 

And then the casket was being lowered into the ground. Aisling, hyper aware of her father, didn’t pay attention to anyone else, and when she felt her father tense, she clutched his arm so tightly she was sure she must be hurting him. Except when he did finally glance at her, all she saw was gratitude in his eyes. 

That was the easy part, Aisling figured, since afterwards everyone seemed to be lingering to talk to one another, and before they could pull away Mrs. Parrish had made her way over to them. 

“Adam,” she said. “Thank you for coming.” She looked at Aisling as she said it, including her in the statement too. 

Aisling didn’t say anything, but she almost wished she did. It was strangely hard to reconcile the sad, tired old woman before her with the nightmare that came to mind when she thought of her father’s childhood. ‘ _Complicit’_ was the word she heard her fathers use when they spoke of Mrs. Parrish.  

Before Aisling’s father could say anything, however, someone else joined them; Robert Parrish’s brother, the one who had spoken during the ceremony. He was a hard-faced, square-jawed man with hair the color of pepper and eyes as cold as the tombstones around them, but there was something almost protective in the way he hovered next to his sister-in-law. 

“Didn’t ‘spect you to show up,” he said to Adam, not having to add that he wasn’t too pleased that he did. 

Mrs. Parrish folded her arms tightly over her chest and hunched her shoulders. “I asked him to come.” 

“I’m not here for any trouble, Uncle Jake,” Adam said. He unlinked his arm from Aisling’s so he could wrap it around her shoulders. 

“You really think Robert would’ve wanted you here?” Jake Parrish said, his sneer not faltering for a second. 

Adam’s own face remained cool and impassive. He rubbed his thumb against Aisling’s shoulder, and she leaned against him. “I think I’m not here for him.” 

“I think he certainly wouldn’t have wanted his family fighting at his funeral,” Mrs. Parrish said, frowning at them both. 

“That boy,” John Parrish said sharply, “don’t know nothing about _real family_ , Marianne, and you know that better than anyone. No real son would go putting his own daddy in jail instead of handling things like proper folks do. What I don’t get is why you keep trying to let him back into your life, he ain’t a real son to you he’s just an ungrateful little bitch is what he is.” 

Aisling found herself gaping, actually gaping a little at him, but her father, for some reason that she was either too young or too well-loved to understand, started to laugh. 

“Jesus,” Adam said, shaking his head, still laughing. It wasn’t his real laugh, it was a stiff, slightly hysterical one that quite frankly worried Aisling a little bit. “Okay. Well, now that we’ve got that out of our system. Uncle Jake, good news is you probably won’t have to talk to me ever again, so goodbye. Mom.” He turned to his mother. “I’ll check in with you soon. You call me if you need anything.”  

With that, his arm still around Aisling’s shoulders, he turned them both and started off back to the car, jaw clenched. He was, however, too intent on getting back to realize that his uncle wasn’t going to let him get off that easily. Aisling did however, feeling a nauseating bubble of panic rise in her when she glanced back over her shoulder to see that Jake Parrish was following them at a pace that could only be described as ‘furious power-walking.’ 

“Dad!” she gasped.  

Adam stopped and spun around, pushing Aisling behind him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, nor was he showing any of the uncertainty Aisling had sensed at the edges of his behavior back by his father’s grave. Now he stood, shoulders squared, posture sure and solid. The sky above had darkened just a bit, the smell of rain heavy on the breeze that caused the tendrils of the willow tree beside them to stir like the arms of some weary creature. 

Clearly Jake Parrish was expecting Adam to say something because when he reached them the two men simply stood there glaring at each other for a seconded or two. 

Aisling, peering out from behind her father, found herself wishing desperately that her other dad was there. Then, to her surprise, Jake Parrish addressed her first. 

“You know, I feel sorry for you, little girl,” he said. “Don’t know what kind of childhood you’re getting but it can’t be a proper one.” 

Aisling bit back her fear and instead tried her best to channel her Aunt Blue, setting her face in a hard scowl and snapping back, “Are you serious right now? It’s the 2030’s, that kinda homophobic bullshit was out of date last  _century_.” 

But her great uncle didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t give a shit that your dad’s gay, I’d be sayin’ the same thing if he’d married a woman or a six-legged alien.” 

“Just ‘cause you don’t know what a good father is don’t mean you got to go insulting mine, you asshole,” Aisling spat. She could feel herself winding up now and wished her father would move so she could go kick this guy in the junk like he deserved. 

Her backtalk wasn’t doing anything to help the situation. Jake Parrish made a move like he was going to grab for her, but he nearly fell, jerking in a startled sort of way and looking down at his feet.  

“What the hell,” he said.  

At first Aisling couldn’t tell what was going on, and then she realized slowly that his feet were stuck fast to the ground. She looked down but the ankle-high grass was too thick for her to see his shoes. Then she looked up at her father. 

Adam was looking at his uncle with a wild, intense stare, eyes wide and humorless, but the corners of his mouth turned up ever-so-slightly in an almost frightening look of satisfaction. He held his hands in front of him at waist height, the insides of his wrists pressed together, fingers crooked in a strange but clearly intentional gesture. After a moment he drew them apart, cutting the air with his fingers. 

Jake Parrish stumbled, able to lift his feet once again. He looked at Adam. 

Adam didn’t need to tell him not to say anything more. He turned slowly, putting an arm around Aisling and saying, “Let’s go, sweetheart. Church should be getting out, maybe your uncles will be there and we can all get lunch...” 

As they continued, Aisling couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder at her great uncle, who was still standing there, staring after them. 

*** 

Ronan, Matthew, and Noah went to meet up with Aisling and Adam at a little café downtown after church. The place was a little too cutesy for Ronan’s tastes, but Noah liked their grilled cheese and it was technically his turn to pick Sunday brunch, so the three of them went over and grabbed one of the tables out on the patio while they waited for Adam and Aisling. 

The minute Adam and Aisling appeared, however, Ronan knew something had happened at the funeral. Rather, it was less of an observation so much as a confirmation, and when Adam gave him a tight little smile Ronan raised his eyebrows to let him know that he wasn’t getting away with anything.  

“So...” Ronan began once they were all seated around the circular cast iron patio table.  

“Dad cast a hex on his uncle,” Aisling said, matter-of-factly, like she was a teacher informing a parent of their child’s misbehavior (a tone Ronan was far too used to hearing, albeit from people not his daughter.) 

Adam sighed. “Ash it wasn’t a hex.” 

Ronan let out a surprised laugh, turning to look at him. “But you did cast  _something_?” 

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, okay?” Adam said, firmly, before changing the subject. “No Declan today?” 

“Nope,” Matthew said. “He had some speech somewhere. Or something. Or maybe he was going to be on a TV show? I can’t remember.” 

“Yeah, he’s heading up to New York he’s going to be on  _The Daily Show_ ,” Ronan said, and he grinned widely. “I cannot fucking—” 

“Dad!” Noah gasped, waving his rolled-up napkin at Ronan. 

“Sorry bud,” Ronan said. “I cannot  _fricken_  wait to see that, I mean it. Declan, on a comedy show.” 

“They’ve definitely had politicians less funny than Declan on there,” Adam said, his posture relaxing a little bit. Under the table he reached over and rested his hand on Ronan’s leg. “You give him a lot of shit but he’s got a good personality for TV.” 

Matthew nodded. “I bet he’s gonna be great...” 

Ronan lost the thread of the conversation as he looked across the table at Aisling, who was slouching down in her seat, picking nail polish off her thumbnail. He had the sudden urge to reach over and use his own thumb to ease away the crease between her eyebrows. What  _had_  happened? What would have been bad enough for Adam to resort to magic, but not bad enough to prevent him from being here now, laughing quietly at something Matthew was saying? 

He waited until Matthew volunteered to walk Noah to the restroom before tying again. 

“What happened?” he murmured to Adam, squeezing his hand and well aware that Aisling was watching them like a hawk. 

Adam sighed, resignedly. “My uncle was just being a dick, and he wouldn’t let us leave so I just...freaked him out a bit. I bound his feet for a few seconds.” He cast a stern look at Aisling. “Definitely not a hex.” 

“Don’t try your lawyer crap on me, Dad,” Aisling said, but it was clear she was trying to be funny rather than insolent. “That’s a technicality.” 

“But an important one,” Adam said. He looked at Ronan. “Really, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to see him again.” 

Ronan nodded and settled back in his seat, but it was Aisling his gaze kept returning to. 

*** 

Low-hanging clouds darkened the sky on Monday morning. As Ronan woke and got ready for the day he tried to blame his feeling of unease on the weather, but heading down the hallway he glanced over and saw that Aisling's room was empty, her bed unmade, sheet askew. He stood in the doorway for a moment, a sense that something wasn’t right still sending shivers down his spine.  

Somehow he knew that he wouldn’t find Aisling inside when he went downstairs, and this was true, but heading into the kitchen he found the back door open. It was possible, of course, that Aisling had just woken up early and decided to take a walk or sit out on the porch or something, but being a teen she wasn’t exactly a morning person, so either of those would have been unusual to say the least. Ronan sat down on one of the kitchen chairs to pull on a pair of shoes, forgetting his socks entirely, before he hurried out into the strangely still, silent and dark morning. 

Some days more than others the Barns felt like it was part of another world, and this was certainly one of those mornings. In the alien twilight everything looked hazy and all the wrong colors, deep dark earth tones and blacks. As Ronan left the protective ring of the yard, looking this way and that for any sign of Aisling, he saw that even the cows were wary of this day, huddling together in the far corners of their fields or around the bases of the trees. 

Then he came around a barn and into one of the unused fields and saw, a few dozen yards away, a figure that had to be Aisling. 

“Ash?” Ronan called as he jogged over to her. His voice sounded oddly muffled. 

She turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Daddy...” 

“Hey,” Ronan reached her and stopped, frowning. “Kiddo, what’s the matter? What are you doing out here?” 

Aisling threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his chest. He instinctively hugged her, and could feel that she was shaking. “Daddy,” she said again. “I’m so sorry, I tried not to, I tried really hard I just couldn’t...” 

“Ash, what are you—” 

A scream cut Ronan off. Half-animal, half-human, entirely too close by, the unearthly noise set Ronan’s heart pounding and he squeezed his daughter tighter to him, head snapping around to face the source of the noise. It was coming from a shape a hundred feet away from them, something Ronan had mistaken for a rock or a fallen log or maybe even a sleeping cow.  

It screamed again and stood up. 

Stood wasn’t the right word; it shivered its way up. It shook itself out, unfolding legs and arms, growing taller. Whatever it was, it was difficult to look at, but what Ronan’s brain did process was a chimerical beast that had elements of a bear, a wolf, a dragon, a goat, a hundred other things mashed together. 

One thing Ronan knew with absolute certainty was that this was a creature from someone’s nightmares.  

“I didn’t dream that,” Ronan said, mostly to himself. 

Aisling let out a frightened sob, continuing to whisper “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again as she clutched at Ronan’s shirt. 

The nightmare let out a third and final scream before it threw itself into a loping gallop, heading straight for them, picking up speed. Ronan barely had time to react. He turned, covering Aisling with his body, curling around her. 

The creature slammed into them, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending both him and Aisling tumbling to the still dew-damp grass. Carried by its own momentum it continued on before skidding around and turning to face them with a dozen gaping jaws and eyes. 

Ronan rolled over, groaning, momentarily stunned. Aisling was crouched nearby, sobbing and shaking and unable to move. 

“Just stay there, baby, it’s going to be okay,” Ronan said, shoving himself to his feet.  

He hoped that wouldn’t be a lie. He wouldn’t want the last thing he ever said to his daughter to be a lie. 

“Hey,  _asshole!”_ Ronan shouted. He started running away from Aisling and the house, moving sideways so he could keep the beast in front of him. Its focus was on him now, but it seemed to be waiting. 

Aisling was staying put, crouched in the grass. Good girl. 

Ronan lifted his hand, putting two fingers between his lips and letting out a loud, trilling whistle that just barely managed to penetrate the breath-held stillness around them. 

He and the monster looked at each other. 

A second later a loud shattering and crashing of breaking wood made them both start, and the nightmare let out a roar that was answered in turn by the screech of something else. 

Ronan bared his teeth because wasn’t confident enough yet to smile. 

His night horror was almost the same color as the clouds when it descended. Though he still thought of it absently as a night horror, this one had been dreamed up intentionally and with care, for the sole purpose of defending himself and his family. It was still reminiscent of the albino night horror of his teenage years, but this one was more refined, stronger, more frightening because instead of haphazard fear, this creature had nothing but intent in its red eyes. 

The other beast looked up just in time to see flashing talons grab it around the neck, dragging it several yards before the two horrible titans began to fight, clawing and screaming at each other. Ronan remained frozen, his body aching now from being thrown to the ground. He watched as his night horror finally grabbed the second creature and shot into the air, tearing at it as it rose. Splatters of inky black liquid fell in a gory rain beneath them. 

Ronan turned now and ran back to Aisling, crouching and putting a hand on her back. “Hey, hey look at me, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

She looked up at him, still crying, tears and snot running down her face, mud streaked where she had tried to wipe them away. 

From behind him, Ronan heard a final gurgling yell, then a gut-wrenching tearing sound, and finally a loud  _thwump_. He looked back over his shoulder and saw his night horror perched on a mass of broken remains.  

It turned its head and looked at him out of one eye, the same way Chainsaw did. “ _Chhhreeeeeeeek_?” it shrieked. 

“Thanks bird,” Ronan said. He turned back to his daughter. “Ash, are you hurt? Can you walk?” 

“Y-yeah I c-can walk,” she stuttered, but she clutched at him as they stood, and Ronan found himself supporting most of her weight as they started back towards the house. By the time they reached the back porch, Aisling had managed to stop crying for the most part. 

On the porch they found Adam, Noah and Opal. Adam was holding Noah, who also looked like he had been crying, and Opal was clutching Chainsaw, though both of the latter two looked like they knew just what had happened. 

“We’re okay,” Ronan said, though he suspected he would have more than a few bruises from this particular encounter.  

“What the hell happened, Ronan?!” Adam said, staring at them with wide eyes. “We heard...” 

“I had to sic my night horror on something,” Ronan said with a humorless smirk.  

Adam stared at him, then at Aisling, still curled against Ronan’s side. He frowned, bouncing Noah a little. “At what?” 

“At one of my nightmares,” Aisling whispered, her voice trembling.  

*** 

Fifteen minutes later the family was gathered in the living room. The kids were both on the couch with Opal, Aisling sandwiched between the other two who seemed determined to comfort her. If Ronan’s head wasn’t reeling so much, he might have had a chance to appreciate how sweet the scene was.  

“Ash,” he said, gently. He was sitting on the edge of the coffee table. Adam hovered close by. “Have you always been able to do this?” 

She swallowed thickly, then shook her head. “The first thing I took out was like, two years ago? And then it was a long time before it happened again.” 

Adam looked down at Ronan. 

“That’s different than it was with me,” Ronan murmured. He rubbed his jaw, thinking absently that he hadn’t even had time to shave yet today. 

“I haven’t always been able to,” Aisling re-iterated. She looked between her fathers. “I’ve felt...I don’t know, different since it started.” Tears started welling up in her eyes. “I tried so hard not to let any nightmares out...I tried...” 

Ronan leaned forward, putting a hand on her cheek. “Hey, hey hey hey, kiddo, shhh. You don’t need to keep apologizing, okay? Why didn’t you tell me you could do this? You know I can help you with it, right?” 

She sniffed loudly, wiping the heel of her palm over her eyes. “I was  _scared_ , okay? Your dreams hurt you, and your dad was killed because he could dream!” 

For a long moment Ronan said nothing. Of course dreaming could be scary, but he’d never really stopped to think that having the ability itself would be a frightening prospect. And there was the question of how Aisling, their  _adopted_  daughter, was able to do this. And why it started so late. And why—He stopped himself. He took a deep breath. 

“Aisling,” he said. “My dad was killed because he got caught up in some dangerous shit, not because he was a dreamer. And I got hurt because I didn’t have anyone around to show me how to not be. You know how you had to take driver’s ed before you got your license? What would happen if you tried to drive before anyone told you how?” 

She looked at him. “You get hurt. Or you hurt other people.” 

“Exactly,” Ronan said. “I tried to learn on my own, and then when I did find someone to teach me shit, he wasn’t exactly a safety conscious individual when it came to either driving or dreaming. The point is, Ash, you don’t need to be scared of this because I’m not going to let it get out of control for you.” 

“Believe it or not your dad does have his shit together in some ways,” Adam said. 

Aisling let out a wet laugh, rubbing her eyes again. “Dad’s got most of his shit together.” 

“Eeeeh,” Ronan said, but he smiled and leaned over to grab the box of tissues from the end table. He handed them to Aisling, his expression growing more serious. “I told you that it was going to be okay, and I didn’t just mean fighting this one nightmare.” 

“Okay,” she said, and Ronan was reassured to see a bit of her usual confidence creeping into her expression again. 

“Okay,” he echoed, and stood up, leaning over to kiss each of the kids and Opal on the head before straightening. “Dad and I are gonna go get breakfast started, you three just...keep cuddling up here and being stinking cute, okay?” 

Aisling nodded. “Opal has the stinking part down alright.” 

“Yes,” Opal agreed, solemnly, but she was petting Aisling’s hair gently. 

Ronan smiled, then gave Adam a pointed look before heading down the hall into the kitchen.  

“Jesus,” Adam breathed as he followed Ronan over to the sink. He reached over and touched his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ro?” 

“I’ve taken worse ass kickings than this, you know that,” Ronan said with a small smile. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m sure you’re fine physically, that’s not really what I meant.” 

Ronan sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked outside, where the clouds seemed to finally be scattering and letting sunlight into the day at last. “I don’t know how this is possible.” 

“Coincidence?” Adam said. “We just happened to—no, you’re right, you don’t have to give me that look. It probably isn’t a coincidence.” 

“Do you think you could try scrying?” Ronan asked. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Adam said. “And something like this sure as hell wouldn’t be in her file from the agency. Though...honestly, if we can’t figure it out, does it really matter?” 

“Huh?” 

“If it’s not something we can figure out easily, does it really matter?” Adam made a vague gesture. “Knowing how she got the dreaming ability probably wouldn’t change anything. It’s not like we’d give...” he stuttered, like even just saying the words was too unthinkable, “give her back or something if we found out that someone planned for us to adopt her.” 

Ronan made a soft, unreadable sound. “No, of course not.” He was silent for a few more seconds then he said, “I just keep coming back to one thing: that she only just started doing this. And, I mean, this is probably what Maura and I have been feeling on the ley line—Ash taking things out. And I don’t get it because every other dreamer I’ve met has been able to do this since birth, basically.” 

“Maybe you’re born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline,” Adam said, absently. 

Ronan let out a snort. “Seriously.” 

“Seriously,” Adam agreed. He sighed and gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, Ronan. I guess we could try talking to Gwenllian. She’s the closest thing to an expert about Greywarens that we’ve got, isn’t she?” 

Calling Gwenllian an expert about  _anything_  was a risky statement, but Ronan realized this was a better plan than anything he’d come up with. So with a sigh and a grimace he nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll start with her.” 

*** 

Aisling did not want to go talk to Gwenllian. Out of all the women at 300 Fox Way, the strange resident of the attic was her least favorite. Not because Gwenllian had ever done anything bad to her, personally; she was just strange and off putting and didn’t really have anything resembling an internal filter. But Aisling’s fathers seemed to think this was absolutely necessary, and so, even though the day had already been plenty upsetting, she found herself sitting in the backseat of the BMW with Noah, headed into town. 

300 Fox Way was considerably less crowded than normal when they arrived, mostly due to the fact that at least some of the residents had regular jobs they worked during the week. Maura was in the living room when they arrived, as was Orla, though she almost immediately took Noah out to play in the back yard, sensing that the others needed to have a serious conversation. 

Adam spoke to Maura in a low tone for a moment, then she disappeared upstairs and Aisling found herself being shepherded across the hall into the reading room.  

“You look like you’re at a doctor’s appointment,” Ronan said, reaching over to ruffle Aisling’s hair. 

“I mean that’s basically what this is,” Aisling grumbled. She still felt bad. Despite her father’s reassurances that she had nothing to feel guilty about, and that she didn’t need to worry, she felt both guilty and worried. She knew this wasn’t like going through puberty or having growing pains—it wasn’t normal, no matter how magical her family was. And she knew her fathers were both baffled and concerned by it, which didn’t help her any. 

They had just settled down at the large table when Maura reappeared in the doorway, now followed by Gwenllian. The latter was dressed in her usual array of mismatched clothing, and her wild black and silver hair billowed around her like a furious cloud as she flounced over, hugging a lace shawl about her shoulders. She sat down across from Aisling and rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. 

Aisling glanced up and met her gaze. The woman’s eyes seemed to be boring into her and Aisling instinctively shrunk back a little, frowning.  

“Aisling can dream like me,” Ronan said, without any preamble. Maura made a quiet sound of surprise. “But this is...new, she wasn’t able to do it before. We want to know how.” 

“If you know,” Adam added. 

Aisling eyed her warily then, hesitating, put her hand in Gwenllian’s. The old woman’s fingers were cold, and as she grasped Aisling’s hands, Aisling felt a strange shiver run up her skin. All Gwenllian did, however, was gently pet the back of Aisling’s hand, like she was trying to comfort her. 

“Magic,” Gwenllian said slowly. She was looking down at Aisling’s hands, but seemed to be speaking to the table at large. “Magic, it is like wind, like chaos, like...water.” 

“The hell does that mean?” Ronan asked. He was slouching back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. When Aisling looked at him, she could tell her father was tense, his foot jiggling, fingers tugging at the tangle of bracelets around his wrist. 

Tipping her head to the side, Gwenllian turned her gaze to Ronan. “Did you name her, Greywaren?” 

“Aisling?” Ronan said. “Yeah, we named her.” 

Gwenllian laughed, then, leaning forward towards Aisling she asked in a whisper, “Do you know what they named you, your fathers, dear? Do you know what they chose for you?” 

Aisling tried not to flinch back, but really, Gwenllian was a lot. She swallowed and said, “It means ‘dream.’ My name means ‘dream.’” 

“Yes!” Gwenllian crowed, leaning back and letting go of Aisling’s hands. She turned a wickedly amused look on Adam and Ronan. “And you come asking  _me_  what is, ah,  _going on_!” She laughed again, throwing her head back. 

Adam reached over to put a hand on Ronan’s arm and stop him from saying anything. “You can’t mean that she has this ability because of the name we gave her.” 

“No! Magic is like wind, and chaos, and water.” Gwenllian held up a finger and waggled it. “Not like blood.” 

“Again,” Ronan said. “What does that mean?” 

Aisling was starting to feel just as frustrated as he sounded. Folding her hands in her lap she looked at Maura, then at Adam, who was rubbing his jaw. “Dad?” Aisling said. 

“D’you mean it fills emptiness?” Adam said to Gwenllian, who clapped her hands together. Then, to the others he elaborated, “If you’ve got a fish tank with a divider in the middle and water in one half, when you lift the divider the water will flow into the empty half until the two sides are equal. Same thing with air into a vacuum. And chaos, well, a system will always move towards thermodynamic equilibrium, with entropy—well, you get the idea." 

“Okay,” Aisling said, frowning. “So because I didn’t have magic in me...” 

“Magic is like life,” Maura added. “It wants to continue.” 

Ronan rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Okay. So what opened the proverbial divider?” 

“You did,” Gwenllian said. She put her hand over her heart. “She is your daughter. You opened it. Little, little bit by bit until she has enough and now she can dream, dream, dream!” 

Aisling felt as though something big  _had_ opened inside her, and she didn’t know whether to be pleased, or frightened. She wanted to cry a little, but whether it was from happiness or terror, she didn’t know. She wrapped her arms around herself and said in a very small voice, "But I'm…I'm adopted. He's not my biological dad." 

Gwenllian scoffed derisively, slapping one palm down on the table so loudly and so suddenly that Maura cast a scowl her way. Ignoring her, Gwenllian leaned towards Aisling again. "Do you know what _my_  father gave to me, little ravenling?" 

Aisling shook her head. 

"He buried me alive!" Gwenllian said with a bitter snort. "He gave me darkness, and lonesomeness, and madness. He did not give me magic, no. That came from my mother, who cherished me." She turned then, pointing to Ronan as though drawing Aisling's attention to something that was very far away and difficult to see. Then she whispered, "That is your father. Do you see now?" 

"I think what Gwenllian is trying to say," Maura said. "Is that magic isn't like…oh, blue eyes or red hair or being able to roll your tongue. It's not tied to your DNA. Whatever the details and logistics behind it, the magic that makes dreamers able to dream saw you as an empty space, and used the fact that you're Ronan Lynch's daughter as a way to you." 

Aisling turned to look at her father. He was looking across the table at Gwenllian with a frown creasing his forehead. His arm nearest her rested on the arm of his chair. Aisling reached over, working one finger under the tangle of leather bands that perpetually encircled his wrist, holding on at just that one little point. She wanted to tell him she was afraid. She wanted to tell him she was excited. 

Ronan turned to look at her. His frown softened into a smile. He put his other hand on hers and squeezed. He understood. 

*** 

The inside of the Camaro was filled with the smells of summer; freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, hot pavement and gasoline. Reclining in the passenger seat with one elbow resting on the open window, Ronan felt like he had been flipped back in time, because here was the Pig, loud and haphazard and joyous, and here he was, and there was Gansey behind the wheel still in a polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts, and there was laughter in the back seat.  

Except it wasn’t the others in the back seat this time; Adam, Blue and Henry were following in Adam’s car behind them. In the back of the Pig sat Aisling, Noah, and Rhian. Rhian Gansey was a lot like her mother in that she was a short, fierce girl who loved life like fire loves dry grass, and she had her father’s impossibly charming smile and charisma, and from both parents she got an excess of brains and a wild heart. She definitely looked more like Blue, especially now, wearing a skirt made of old neckties and a t-shirt that had been made out of several other, lesser t-shirts.  

She and Aisling adored each other and right now the two girls were giggling over some secret-cousin-inside joke while Noah gazed at them with a dreamy admiration. 

“It’s surreal,” Gansey said. “Isn’t it.” 

Ronan grinned and let out an agreeing puff of air, shaking his head. He let his hand drift outside, tapping his fingers against the burning paint of the Camaro.  

Eventually Gansey pulled the Pig off the side of the road into a field of grass. Before them rose a forest, thick and lush and spreading far in all directions. Adam’s car pulled up beside them and a moment later everyone was out and stretching, the kid running around in circles and laughing. 

Blue snuck over to Ronan’s side and wrapped her arm around his waist. He snorted, but draped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, Maggot, sorry to make you get back in the car right away.” 

“As long as we’re back at Fox Way for dinner I think I can skip the murdering you part, Lynch,” she said, poking him in the ribs with one finger. 

“Yeah, so what’s the big secret?” Henry said, glancing over at them. He still looked a lot like he used to, big hair, big grin, bright, happy eyes.  

“It’s not really a secret,” Ronan said. “There’s just...a theory I need to test, and I figured you all should be here.” 

Adam was the only one who didn’t look surprised or worried by this. He stood next to Henry, a soft, gentle smile on his face.  

Gansey raised his eyebrows. “A theory?” 

“Hey, runts!” Ronan bellowed at the kids, waving them back over. Before Aisling could link arms with her cousin, Ronan moved away from Blue and put his arm around his daughter instead. “You need to come with me, pipsqueak.” 

Aisling grumbled good-naturedly. “You gonna tell me what we’re doing, Dad?” 

“You’ll see,” Ronan said. He glanced back at the others. “You all ready?” 

Gansey gave him a thumbs up and said, for old time’s sake, “Excelsior.”  

As the group of five adults and three children stepped into the cool shadows of the overhanging branches, the sounds from beyond the forest vanished; no more highway sounds, no more truck engines, airplanes, crickets in the long grass. Now they could only hear the sound of birds and the wind in the leaves.  

Aisling shivered and leaned against Ronan. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “This is Cabeswater, isn’t it?” 

They had not brought her or Noah or Rhian here before. The kids knew about the magical forest, the one Ronan had dreamed up to replace the original that had been unmade, but the new Cabeswater was even more powerful than the first one had been, and understandably everyone was a little wary of putting their children in it. 

At least they had been. 

“Why are we here, Dad?” Aisling whispered.  

“You’ll see,” Ronan said. He looked over his shoulder. Adam was carrying Noah, who had gone suddenly quiet, and now had his thumb in his mouth, his other arm clinging tightly to Adam. Rhian was quiet as well, walking arm in arm with Blue.  

Gansey met Ronan’s gaze and gave him a questioning look. Ronan just tilted his head to indicate that they should keep walking. As he did, however, he cast a look up at the towering trees above them.  

_Come on_ , he thought.  _I don’t think I’m wrong about this._  

And just like that a breeze suddenly picked up, blowing against their backs with just enough force to feel like it was urging them onward. Wordlessly they picked up the pace, but Ronan could tell that Aisling was still nervous from the way she was pressed against his side. 

Abruptly they rounded a bend and found themselves at the base of a tree larger around by three times than any of the others. Emerald green grass grew in a wide circle all around it, dotted with perfect little blue flowers, and a tangle of blooming rose vines twined all around the thick trunk of the ancient tree. 

Behind him, Ronan heard Rhian say, “ _Oh_.” 

Other than that everything was silent. They all held their breath, waiting, because the air was charged with...something. 

The wind began to rise again, but this time the rustling of the leaves formed into words, a thousand familiar voices whispering together, “ _Salve, Greywaren_ _.”_  

_“Salve,_ _Cabeswater_ _,_ ” Ronan said, but he didn’t relax, not yet.  

And after a second the voices spoke again, in English this time. “ _And greetings, new Greywaren_.” 

Ronan gave Aisling’s shoulder a light squeeze. His throat suddenly felt tight, and it took a second before he managed to say, “It means you, kiddo.” 

“What,” Aisling whispered. She had her hands over her mouth and spoke through her fingers, looking first at Ronan, then back at the others.  

Ronan turned as well. Rhian and Noah both looked mildly confused. Gansey’s mouth was hanging open. Like her niece, Blue had a hand over her mouth, but her eyes were wide. Henry had his arms wrapped around him, but he was biting back a wide grin. And Adam, he was smiling. 

Pressing even closer against Ronan’s chest, Aisling looked up, up, and up. She was trembling a little, but when she spoke again her voice was more confident, clearer. “Hello, Cabeswater.” 

“ _Hello, little Greywaren. Hello hello.”_  

Ronan felt like bursting. He wrapped his arms tightly around his daughter, squeezing her to him, kissing the top of her head, then looking over her at the others. He looked at Henry, at Blue, at Gansey, and finally at Adam.  

Then he laughed. “Here we go again.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
